


Feast

by webcomix



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Children, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Graphic Descriptions of Food, Pre-Calamity, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, get the picture?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcomix/pseuds/webcomix
Summary: It's the Queen’s funeral and per custom, there is a feast for the guests. It takes them a while to come to terms with their great loss, and to feel comfortable enough to chow down on the food... particularly so for a young boy whose sense of decorum is eclipsed by his hunger.But when Link goes exploring in the royal gardens, he discovers a most unusual secret. Should he return to the feast or do something about it?





	Feast

**Author's Note:**

> We all have @ourladymuffin to thank for this flufftastic tale of two smol hungry kids, for it was she who drove the idear out of my fanciful headspace and into words.

Link thought that he done very, very well.

All morning, he had remained standing in the stuffy cathedral between his parents, doing his best not to fidget or doze off while speeches droned on and on. His mother joined the other ladies in dabbing at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. The silence was broken with their sniffles. Link watched as his father took off his cap, holding it close to his chest with grave solemnity while the casket was carried past them.

He was wearing a black woolen tunic that made him quite sweaty in his weather. But Link did not complain, even when they stepped out of the dark of the cathedral into the sweltering sun of high noon. The stiff and silent crowd slowly roused itself. Gazes were met and greetings exchanged, first stilted and stammering, then relaxing into more familiar expressions of contact. Link waited patiently as strangers came to speak with his parents. Their smiles were bright but brief, embraces heartfelt but hasty. Somebody let slip a laugh before covering their mouth with a hand, embarrassed. The people policed their actions with care.

They formed a stately procession up to Hyrule Castle. Link felt a tiny thrill of excitement as he looked up at the formidable ramparts, the wingcrests on the banners flapping in the breeze. He had always wanted to see the great castle. However, he buried his desire to explore and followed his parents and everyone else up the winding path.

Their destination turned out to be a light-filled courtyard. Link could see where the flagstones melted into a carpet of green, sinuous curves of full flowerbeds and sculpted hedges tempting one to continue into the royal gardens. But even before that, the courtyard itself had been filled with a feast. Tables upon tables waited for the visitors, matching them in their livery of elegant black — though instead of heavy hearts, they were weighed down by food. Amazing amounts of food.

Link saw serving platters piled with fried greens, sautéed nuts, and roasted peppers surrounding an enormous tureen of simmered fruit. The cooking process had transformed the sugars from the fruits into a syrup, giving the soft flesh a shine beneath the sun. One table was nothing but soups and stews, large pots brimming with chunks of carrot, pumpkin, shrooms or snails that floated in thick creamy broth. Mounds of rice had been prepared to go with the vast assortment of meats and seafood. Whole birds roasted on spits, their fatty juices used to flavour the pilaf, and flaky filets of fish breaded and fried in goat butter. The bright red pincers of grilled crabs waved in the air next to them. There were perfectly seared slabs of gourmet steaks, only needing a sprinkle of salt to enhance their natural flavours. Prime grade slices of venison and pork had been slathered with Goron spice and courser bee honey to make curries and barbeque so aromatic that Link’s stomach awoke like a monster. Feed me, it begged him with a gurgle. Forget about the bread and milk and apples of this morning’s breakfast — that was already four hours ago, you must FEED ME, Link!

It took him all the willpower in the world to stay where he was. The people lined up in rows by the tables, daring not to touch them. One of the royal guards, immaculate in the blue, white and maroon uniform well familiar to Link’s eyes, rapped his boots upon the stone floor to get everyone’s attention. “My lords and ladies. Kneel for Rhoam Bosphoramus, King and Lord Protector of Hyrule. Father of Princess Zelda. Husband…” his voice trailed off. Its return was weak and faltering. “Widower of our beloved, late Queen.”

Link suddenly saw his vision clear as heads bowed and knees bent for a man who slowly walked towards them, flanked by another squadron of royal guards. His robes fell past his knees, the finest weave rupees could buy and blacker than night. Oddly for a King, he was completely unadorned. No gold or jewels today, not in his belt or clothes or upon his head. But there was no doubting his regal bearing. Sunlight shone down upon his bare head, lighting up the pale yellow of his flowing hair and beard.

King Rhoam stopped at the edge of the stair. The effort it took for him to raise his head and survey his subjects was evident, sadness reflected in his dark eyes.

“Thank you all for being here with us on this difficult day. It means the world to myself and Zelda. My… your Queen has left this world. There will not be a day where I will not yearn for her smile with us once again. I know… I know I am not the ruler you wanted. I know that I hold none of the Goddess’s gift in my bones — but I will do all that I can to serve Hyrule with courage, depending on the wisdom of my advisers and respecting the power this office holds.”

He paused here, lowering his eyes as if to avoid any accusations. There were none, of course. The people hovered, nervous and sympathetic, waiting for him to finish.

“But do not dwell upon the tender aches in your hearts. Remember her with love, and light. Smile and know joy when you think of her today.” The King gestured to the food that waited before him. “Stay with us and feast.”

His invitation was met with hesitation, then a weak smattering of applause. But even before the last of the half-hearted clapping had died away, the King had already begun drifting off, a silent dark shape who parted the crowds. Murmurs of sympathy rippled down the line whenever he passed.

Once his royal highness had retreated back into the castle, everyone sighed in relief. The buzz of conversation began to slowly fill the air, spreading from guest to guest as the crowd broke into smaller clusters, finally drifting towards the food and drink.

Funerals, Link thought, were a very strange affair. Everyone acted sad and happy at the same time, with an extra coating of guilt whenever they flip-flopped between the states. He now turned to his parents for instruction, just to find that they were just as uncertain as everyone else.

“It doesn’t seem right,” his mother murmured to his father. The humidity had dampened the fringe she had carefully curled for this special occasion, some tendrils plastered to her forehead with sweat. “How can one partake of celebrations on such an occasion?”

“He tells us to stay, so we stay.”

She glanced around, a paper fan flapping in her fingers. “It’s almost disgusting, gorging ourselves while that heartbroken man hides alone.”

“It’s a good tactic. Distract the masses with dinner while taking a moment for yourself.” Link’s father folded his arms across his chest. “That’s clearly what he wants. Would you have me intrude on his majesty in the name of condolences?”

“I’m not having you do anything, I simply feel…”

Seeing that there was yet to be a consensus, Link turned his attention away. He couldn’t bear looking at the delectable dishes that beckoned to him so evilly, so he decided to study the guests themselves.

Every kind of person in the world had come to pay their respects to the late Queen. Most were Hylian like himself, boasting the trademark pointed ears and short stature. But they were also members of the royal court, and their dresses and doublets were made of expensive materials in elaborate styles, much unlike their King. Several Sheikah were also in attendance, figures of white from their robes to their hair. Though black was the traditional colour of mourning, the effect was still there: an emphasis on an emptiness that could not be filled again. Some of them had tattooed a large eye upon their foreheads with a single tear dripping down to the bridges of their noses. Link wondered what it signified. Perhaps they had been very close to the Queen.

There were peoples he had never seen before. A dozen Gerudo were amongst the crowd, standing a good head and shoulders taller than everyone else. They had warm, nut-brown skin and fiery red hair, and though their billowy black garments were loose and comfortable looking, they failed to hide the muscular build of their bodies as a Gerudo strode across the courtyard bearing flutes of hydromelon wine. A warrior with a piercing gaze and towering physique was their leader. She was in deep conversation with a young Sheikah woman who wore a weighted hat so large that it covered her eyes.

Standing on their own near a waterfall were some Zora, inhabitants of Lanayru province. They were strong and lean, their armour and accessories glittering silver and sapphire against the muted colours of their scales: navy, grey, and olive. No doubt these were experienced and savvy fighters — Link saw a few scars upon their head-tails, hiding beneath their helms. The soldiers stood by warily as their ambassador selected some escargot and paella for his plate.

The representatives of the Rito wiped up drops of stew with crusts of freshly baked bread, standing out in their fine plumages of sunset orange, jade green, and pale lavender. Link was tempted to brush his fingers against those soft tail feathers but knew not to try. He consented with listening to the beads in their braids clink together with every bob and turn of the head. A grizzled Goron gentleman, enormous and round like the boulders of Death Mountain itself, politely declined the dishes before him and made a whispered request to a server nearby. They rushed off and soon returned with a steaming cast-iron pot carefully carried in mittened hands. The Goron’s face split into an appreciative grin at the sight of molten rock sirloin, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Link couldn’t ignore the pangs of envy as he continued to watch the Goron dig into his food with gusto. Even rocks would do at this point.

“Link,” somebody said. He looked up and saw his parents finally remembering that he was there. “Go ahead. You’re supposed to eat something,” his father assured him.

“But mind your manners,” his mother couldn’t help adding. “This is the royal castle!”

He needed no more encouragement. Link hurried to join the line so that he, too, could join the feast. He was kind to himself and took large helpings of anything and everything that captured his eyes, nose, and heart. A few adults stopped their conversations to stare down at the small boy piling his plate by the steaming ladle, sudden smiles stealing over their faces before they remembered to resume a sombre demeanor.

Link found an unoccupied bench at the back of the courtyard on the edge between stone and grass. He settled onto it and got to work. He ate steadily, filling the canyons of hunger inside of him. Once the plate was clean, he stood up and went back for seconds.

As Link polished off his third serving of risotto, the cravings finally started to subside. He glanced up and around the busy courtyard. He could not see his parents anywhere. His woolen tunic was a veritable oven in this midday sun, baking him much like the toasted apple waiting beside his plate. Seeing that nobody seemed to be looking for him, Link grabbed his apple and, leaving the soiled dishes behind, walked into the gardens.

The royal gardens wound around the castle, bringing texture and colour against the hard grey of the keep. At the height of summer, the air was scented with the flowers all in bloom. The narrow space had been carefully cultivated into terraces, each level boasting a brighter and bolder spread of scarlet, yellow, and white. There were beds of deep blue nightshade paired with broad heads of purple armoranth. Swift violets found purchase in the stone walls beside climbing vines that rambled up pillars and across the slats of a wooden pergola that provided merciful shade for Link as he wandered on. Pink lotuses and their large, golden seeds floated on the surface of nearby pools, only the tumble of fountains in their centres disrupting the tranquility. The green lawn was thick and springy. Link longed to kick off his boots and wiggle his bare toes in the soft, cool soil. Remembering his mother’s words, he did no such thing.

He noticed a strange shadow in the roots of the border of bushes at the far end. Still sucking the juices from his apple, Link hunkered down to peer at it more closely. To his surprise, some branches had been cleared away to form a small tunnel. It was quite untidy and seemed recently made, with many twigs snapped away.

Well, there was only one option. Link secured the apple in his teeth, got onto his hands and knees, and crawled through.

It didn’t take long until he wiggled out the other side. The tunnel had squeezed him past a line of trees planted to block the unsightly stone wall from the beautiful green gardens. It was a slightly disappointing place to end up in, scraggly grass and weeds jumping at a chance at life in the shadow of the castle. But Link barely felt the damp dirt under his fists. He lay there staring back at the girl who crouched here.

She must have been another funeral guest, since she wore black. Her dress was of a much nicer make than Link’s stupid tunic, but soaked in mud — indicating that she had probably arrived here the same way he did. The girl huddled behind the bushes with her knees drawn up to her chest. Leaves had tangled in her yellow hair. Her eyes were big, green, and strangely bright in the rays of light that filtered through the branches. They didn’t blink even as she absorbed her shock at being discovered, and her eyebrows pulled together to glare at Link.

He was aware of how he looked: flopped on his belly with an apple in his mouth, a ridiculous imitation of the great roast rhinoceros back at the banquet. His cheeks turned redder than a rare steak. The girl continued to judge him silently. She said not a word, but he could feel the waves of anger rolling out from her. Link lowered his gaze and slowly slid out of the tunnel, leaving her be.

Once standing, Link made quick work of the baked apple as his feet sent him on autopilot around the garden, his mind trying to make sense of what he’d just seen. Who was she? Why was she there? What did she want?

When he was done with his apple, he leaned down and buried the core in the moist loam of a bed of safflina. The spicy, fresh scent of the herbs tickled his nose as he patted the earth firmly down and weighed his options. The girl didn’t want his company. But it didn’t seem right to pretend like he’d never seen her. He felt a mighty need to make it up to her.

Link brushed off the dirt from his knees and strode back towards the feast. There was one table he had, with deep regret, been forced to leave alone after his stomach had begun to feel too full. But sufficient time had passed and Link was ravenous once more.

He stopped and admired the desserts. Golden stands showcased whole cakes and pies that had been sliced into perfectly symmetrical slices. Each had a different texture: crumbly carrot cake, crisp apple pie, a moist nutcake dense with acorns, and the smooth and creamy filling of pumpkin pie. There were boiled sweets of pure honey wrapped in pale wax paper. Fried bananas lay in rows upon a palm leaf as wide as his shoulders. Unlike its savoury counterparts, the creamy heart soup had already been doled into individual cups, a pink slice of radish floating on the surface of each one. Just behind the rolled-up crepes and flans of egg pudding stood the jewel of the dessert table. A pristine fruitcake was yet to be cut, three tiers tall and swathed in cream whipped so stiff that whorls of it froze like the peaks of snowy mountains, ruby red wildberries nestled in the valleys.

Link took two of everything and somehow managed to fit them all onto one towering tray. He felt somewhat sorrowful as he plunged the serving knife into the fruitcake, but no remorse at selecting the biggest pieces. Conversations trailed off as their participants paused to stare after Link in amazement while he hefted his heavy load up with both arms and marched back to the gardens, oblivious to the world.

No doubt the girl was shocked to see a pile of food emerging from the tunnel like the sweetest peace offering that ever had been. Link squeezed himself in after it and sat up. He removed a fallen leaf from the creamy heart soup and pushed the tray towards the girl.

Her shock was great enough to dissolve her grief and anguish for just a moment. Her lips fell open to gape at the array of sugared fruit and baked pastries offered to her. But then, it passed, and defiance clouded her eyes again before she buried her face in her arms, coiling up even more tightly.

Link swallowed his surprise and disappointment. After all, _he_ would have forgiven anyone at such a gift. No matter. The food couldn’t go to waste. He started on the pies first.

When the tray was almost halfway depleted, he felt a shift in the atmosphere. Link glanced over and saw that the girl had changed her position ever so slightly. Her green eyes now peeped over her elbow, though it still curled around her knees. She was staring at the fruitcake. Wildberry juice had stained some of the cream, little pink streams through the yellow sponge. Link turned the tray around until it was within her reach.

He watched the struggle play out on her face, wrestling between the safety of her protective ball and the temptation of the cake. After what felt like an age, she finally unfolded and accepted her share.

The girl seemed uncomfortable holding cake with her bare hands, but Link had failed to bring along any cutlery. She slowly bit into one end of the slice, still refusing to make eye contact with him. Crumbs stuck to her chin as she gulped it down. Link saw her eyes dart down to the second piece on the tray even as she sucked the remaining cream off her thumb. A strange tremble went through her as he picked it up and put it into her open palm. Apprehension suddenly washed over him, and Link watched the girl closely as she stared at the fruitcake.

Without warning, she burst into a flood of tears. Link watched on in horror and rising panic while the girl still shoved the cake into her mouth, her shoulders heaving with sobs. Her tears mixed in with the berry juice and saliva and cream and mucus, making an awful mess on the lower half of her face.

Link leaned in to pat her back – she made no acknowledgment of his touch – and, since he had no other ideas, apologised. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She drew her sleeve across her face, smearing cake residue all over herself. Link reached for her sticky, unresponsive hand and kept soothing her. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

He repeated this a few more times while she cried and cried. Just when Link thought he couldn’t do anything else for her, the shadows lifted and light streamed in on them.

* * *

“I haven’t seen the princess in over an hour,” Impa told Urbosa in hushed tones.

It was turning out to be a fine funeral feast. Urbosa repeated his hollow statement to herself. When the news of her beloved friend’s passing broke in Gerudo, she had taken several days to mourn, meditating with her face towards the west where the sun, like all other things of this world, would sink below the earth and leave them. The tiles of her balcony had been washed several times over from her tears. Only at the request from Hyrule’s King to be present for this last farewell did she wipe her eyes and draw up the hood of her black kaftan. A heart rattled inside her ribcage like seeds trapped within the shrivelled husk of a wasted fruit, but Urbosa had heeded the call and come to the green vales of Hyrule. She had done it for Zelda, who was now missing.

“I personally escorted her after the ceremony,” Impa continued. The tattooed eye upon her forehead crumpled into itself as worried creases formed. “We used a private route to the castle from the cathedral. I was with her while she took a rest in her chambers, and by her side when we came down to join the feast. But after the King made his speech, I was intercepted by some envoys and when we had finished speaking, she had gone.”

“Zelda could not have gone far,” Urbosa reassured her. “And this is her home. She will know its secrets best.”

Impa nodded, but remained troubled. “It is not a good time for her to be alone.”

Urbosa had to agree. They must look for the princess, but subtly so no alarm would be raised among the guests. Impa departed to relay instructions for her Sheikah associates to search the castle as Urbosa walked through the crowd. She scanned the courtyard of dark gowns and extravagant food for any sign. The mood had relaxed considerably, tongues loosened thanks to the flowing wine. There were warm and reverent words for the Queen. Watery eyes and longing sighs were in abundance as her dearest’s subjects reminisced. Urbosa was forced to stop after too many of these tender memories had risen to the front of her mind. She closed her eyes and allowed the emotions to sweep over her before resuming her task.

Other conversations were shrewder. They challenged the King’s authority in his late wife’s absence, and raised the crucial question of whether the princess would be properly prepared for her anticipated duties. Urbosa’s fingers flexed involuntarily as these doubts were given life through surreptitious whispers.

Some guests had completely forgotten the reason they were here in the first place, gossiping with one another about the weather, fashion, and of course, the food. Urbosa had barely taken a bite because everything tasted like ashes in grief, but even she could see that the royal chefs had outdone themselves. As she passed the dessert table, a remark floated by her ear.

“Did you see that child, just now? It was the strangest sight. Sneaking away into the gardens with what amounted to almost an entire cake, among other things. I could barely see the top of their little blond head since there was so much food on that plate!”

Urbosa hid her surprise. Stealing cakes did not sound like Zelda at all. But, how many children would be present at this occasion?

The gardens were lush and gentle upon her aching soul, a blessed reprieve from the harsh sun. Urbosa soon picked up on a trail of clues that wound down the lawns and round the flowers and shrubbery. A broken pastry crust here, spilled syrup over there. They led her to a row of bushes, one of which had been dug into rather deliberately. Instead of trying to peer into its depths, Urbosa simply reached in and pushed the tree branches aside.

Zelda sat there in the dirt, a mess of mud and cream, crying uncontrollably over a mostly-eaten tray of sweets while a young boy with sandy blond hair comforted her. He looked up at Urbosa with an expression of guilt and fright, but she caught the way he scooted slightly closer to the princess, as if to shield her from whatever scolding they were about to receive. Zelda hadn’t even noticed, her eyes screwed shut as all of her bottled-up sadness finally found release.

“It’s alright,” Urbosa said. Zelda recognised her voice and stopped mid-bawl, hiccoughing. The boy patted her on the back. “Come out, both of you.”

She leaned in to hoist the princess into her arms and let the boy fumble his way back through the brush. “Leave it,” she said when he looked back at the dessert platter. “Return to the feast.”

He refused. Urbosa could see stubbornness settle into his limbs, and his gaze flicked back up to Zelda huddled against her shoulder. She relented, making no comments as he hurried along beside her past all the vines and blossoms.

To her relief, Impa had somehow known they would be coming this way and was waiting by a fountain. Her face was a mask of calm, but concern and affection flashed across it when she saw them. Impa bowed once to Urbosa before melting into the shadows to spirit Zelda back to her chambers, taking hidden paths so that the visitors would not see the princess in such disarray.

That left Urbosa with the boy. She looked down at him. His mouth had dropped open in amazement at the sudden disappearance of Zelda and her carer. He glanced back up at her with a small amount of sheepish timidity. “Thank you,” Urbosa said to him. “Now, you may return.” He hesitated. “She will be alright after a good rest. Do not worry. Please, go and reward yourself at the feast.”

The boy seemed satisfied. He gave her a little nod before trotting back across the grass. Urbosa felt a smile stretch across her lips as she noted the urgency overtaking his step as he made a beeline for the remnants of the fruitcake upon the dessert table, only a few slices left. She bade him good luck, savouring this unexpected taste of sweetness in the midst of her own deadened senses, a genuine jolt of happiness almost foreign and surprising.

Urbosa closed her eyes, concentrating on sending her prayers westward. She vowed to look after Zelda as long as she lived, seeing that she would be as wise and compassionate as her mother. She would be cherished and cared for, protected by her allies and friends, even if they might turn out to be strange young boys bearing cake.

Urbosa opened her eyes, smiling, and returned to the feast.

**Author's Note:**

> (Ten years later, after both of them have forgotten about this incident/hidden it in storage of their memories, Link waits upon Princess Zelda as she scarfs down her favourite dessert during a break from her relentless studies)  
> Link: Hold on… _bush girl?!_
> 
> Fun facts about this fic:  
> \- I considered making Zelda the stoic per her father’s journals, but bawling your eyes out while stuffing your face is super Ghibli and I’m all about that vibe.  
> \- I’ve been binging “Love Your Garden” lately so we had to have some pergolas, water features, and statement beds in there. Golly gosh, I love that show. Beautiful scenery, heartwarming and tearful stories, super cheesy and clearly scripted jokes… GOOD WHOLESOME CONTENT, 10/10 I recommend  
> \- Speaking of good wholesome content, this oneshot is part of my mission to inject more gen into this ficdom (and ficdom in general). Hope you found it up to scratch! Thank you for reading!


End file.
